


if he's a ghost, I can be a phantom

by Kait_darling



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Heavy Drinking, Inspired by the Ken Rex McElroy episode, Mentions of Pedophilia, Mentions of Sexual Assault, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Please Be careful, Prequel to the Mafia AU, f-slur, murderer!shane, potentially triggering content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-24 23:28:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13821723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kait_darling/pseuds/Kait_darling
Summary: Hunter McElroy was not a good person. In fact, Shane Madej might argue that he was a very bad person, what with the growing criminal record Shane had managed to obtain. Shane couldn’t fault Hunter for being a criminal, at least not entirely, because he’d be a hypocrite if he had. Shane became the leader of an underground mafia, after his father, when he was only twenty-three. Now that he was fast approaching twenty-nine, he had nearly six years of crime to account for; however, none of it held a candle to what this guy had managed in only six months.





	if he's a ghost, I can be a phantom

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!! So I figured I could give y'all a taste of how dangerous Mafia!Shane can actually be. This is my first attempt at an action scene and I think it turned out pretty okay. For the last time, this fic contains some very serious, potentially triggering mental images and slurs, so if you're sensitive to any of the listed warnings, I would suggest stopping now. Seriously. 
> 
> For those who feel comfortable reading on, I hope you enjoy this sick fucko getting what he had comin to him!

Shane found it nearly impossible to focus on anything besides his own breathing and the other body in the room as he waited for the man to wake. 

The weight of the knife felt heavy in Shane’s hand as time passed, and he mused over the idea of filling a bucket with cold water to throw on his unconscious victim. However, he withheld; the wait almost serving to make things sweeter. 

Hunter McElroy was not a good person. In fact, Shane Madej might argue that he was a very bad person, what with the growing criminal record Shane had managed to obtain. Shane couldn’t fault Hunter for being a criminal, at least not entirely, because he’d be a hypocrite if he had. Shane became the leader of an underground mafia, after his father, when he was only twenty-three. Now that he was fast approaching twenty-nine, he had nearly six years of crime to account for; however, none of it held a candle to what this guy had managed in only six months. 

Shane’s eyes scanned down the page of McElroy’s prior offenses, rage simmering in his stomach. His intestines twisted with each description: three counts of attempted murder, harassment, arson, theft, and the sexual assault of a minor. Shane’s pulse boiled in his veins, bubbling out into jittery fingers and twitching muscles, and it took everything he had not to start torturing the sick bastard until he woke.

Instead, Shane circled Hunter and checked, two or three times, that he was firmly bound to the chair. He knew he could trust his second in command, Andrew Ilnyckyj, to make sure that this fucker wouldn’t be able to break free. Still, there was no harm in checking.

Physically, Hunter wasn’t a very imposing man; in fact, he looked rather innocuous compared to what one might expect. His hair was a sandy brown, combed back and styled, while his skin was fair and free of blemishes--conventionally attractive, one might say, which Shane suspected played a part in Hunter’s ability to slip out from underneath the law. For that, Shane hated him even more. 

A few more minutes passed as Shane circled, planning his every move. He wanted to make sure that this piece of shit suffered as much as he made those around him suffer. It fueled Shane, a little bit, to play God even for one man; it was like playing cat and mouse, except the mouse was already caught by the trap and had been left for dead by those who used to call him a friend.

Catching this mouse was simple, really--all it took was a few conversations with the right people and Shane was on his merry way. Sara, his tech advisor and background checker, was able to pull up McElroy’s record rather easily, and Andrew found him with a little snooping around local bars that he was said to frequent. 

Andrew struck gold at a bar, coincidentally, named The Limerick. Hunter had finished his drink when Andrew slid up next to him and ordered one for himself, giving a side eye at the guy before tilting his chin up in greeting. 

“Hey, want another drink? ‘S on me.” Andrew offered to Hunter, turning to thank the bartender when his drink had been handed to him. He took a sip of his Old Fashioned, returning his attention back to the man beside him.

Hunter raised an eyebrow, taking a moment to size Andrew up and figure out the likelihood that he was being hit on. “You’re not one of those fags, are you?” 

Andrew held back a flinch with a dry laugh, shaking his head, “No, sir, just a guy lookin’ for a conversation. Plus, uh-” Andrew paused, noticing four empty glasses pushed off to the side, “Thought maybe you could use a drinkin’ partner.” 

“You sure you can keep up with me, kid?” Hunter challenged, something evil gleaming in his eyes that unsettled Andrew, but he pursued; his face unreadable to the stranger. 

“Trust me, I can handle my liquor well enough.” Andrew replied easily, sliding over to take the bar stool next to Hunter and ordering the man another glass. The two began chatting, starting with introductions. 

“I’m Hunter, Hunter McElroy.” Hunter introduced, holding out his hand for Andrew to shake.

Andrew smiled warmly in return, shaking the man’s hand, “I’m James, James Farone.” 

The two of them talked for a while, Andrew guiding the conversation with questions. Soon enough, Hunter was through the first drink Andrew had bought him, and ordered another for himself. Andrew continued to nurse his own, watching carefully as Hunter downed another. He slipped the tablet of rohypnol into the glass when Hunter stumbled into the bathroom to take a piss. He was sure that the bartender hadn’t noticed.

Hunter was on his seventh drink by the time Andrew fished out his wallet and closed their tab. Hunter seemed outraged by that, furrowing his brows and glaring at Andrew. “Hey man, the fuck’s that for? I was gonna have another drink-” Hunter slurred, sliding off of his bar stool and staggering. 

Andrew cleared his throat, moving off of his own barstool. He spoke using a firm, authoritative tone and said, “I think you’ve had enough. C’mon, I’ll take you home.” Andrew guided Hunter out of the bar without too much of a fuss, making sure Hunter didn’t trip and hit the pavement on several occasions. They made it to Andrew’s car and Andrew ushered Hunter into the backseat before closing the door. He fought the urge to roll his eyes in annoyance at the bastard and got into the front seat.

Finally, Andrew started driving to Headquarters. The guy didn’t question where they were going, and Andrew assumed that Hunter had passed out. When Andrew pulled into the lot and parked, he found that his suspicions were confirmed. He sighed to himself, running a hand through his hair before getting out of the car.

Getting Hunter downstairs to the interrogation room in the basement was an absolute nightmare, Andrew recalled as he briefed Shane, but he’d managed. Shane clapped Andrew on the back and grinned, “I knew you were the right man for the job, Ilnyckyj. You wanna come in and throw a few punches when I’m almost done?” 

Andrew scoffed, shaking his head before running a hand through his hair. “Nah, I think I’m gonna head home and shower. Can’t get the smell of that bastard off my clothes and it’s making me sick. Give ‘em Hell for me, though, boss. He’s a real piece of work.”

“Will do. Night, ‘Drew.” Shane bid farewell, watching as Andrew left the office, his footsteps sounding as he made his way back upstairs. Shane stood alone in the middle of the room, then, taking a moment to bask in the silence. It was almost two a.m., and Hunter was bound to wake soon.

Shane stood and watched, and planned, until almost three. That’s when he filled a cup of cold water and threw it in Hunter’s face. Hunter’s eyes flew open and he spluttered, his mouth gaping until he managed to find his voice and yell, “What the fuck, dude?!” 

“Oh, good, you’re awake.” 

Hunter looked up at Shane and glared, nostrils flaring as he tried to get up from his chair and throw a punch. He was jerked back rather quickly by his restraints. Shane bit back a grin.

“Wh- Where the fuck- What-” Hunter stumbled over his words, his eyes squeezing shut as his head swam. His head fell forward and he dry heaved, trying to expel the drugs from his system.

Shane leaned back against the wall opposite Hunter, his lips now quirked up into a twisted grin. His eyes, meanwhile, were cold and dark. Now the fun could begin. 

“Mm, where you are doesn’t really matter, Hunter; it’s kind of like how it didn’t matter where you forced that little girl to have sex with you didn’t matter, remember?” Shane said, his voice unbelievably steady. He watched Hunter’s expression change, and a bark of a laugh leave his lips. 

“Is that- Is that what this is about? Oh, boy. Come on, man, you know she was just begging for it.” Hunter replied cockily, his words slurring ever so slightly. He exhaled, taking a moment before slouching back in the chair as much as he could. “She only cried rape because she didn’t want anyone to know about her drinking problem and daddy issues.” 

Shane hid his shaking hands in his pockets as he approached the man, not much younger than he, and knelt before him. His face remained expressionless as he spoke. “Drinking problem, huh? That reminds me, how’s your head feeling? Heard you had a bit to drink. Are you feeling a little… woozy? Nauseous? Maybe even like you’ve forgotten something?”

Hunter gave Shane a look of confusion, once again pulling in his brows and clenching his jaw before realization dawned. “You- I- That guy fucking drugged me!” He exclaimed, trying again to lunge forward and break free, which he failed to do yet again.

“Mm, yeah, he did. Doesn’t feel so nice, being helpless at the hands of a stranger, does it? I wouldn’t think so.” Shane mused, moving to stand behind Hunter before flicking open a pocket knife. Hunter tensed at the sound, a scream ripping from his throat as Shane yanked his head back by the hair and held the knife to his neck. Water dripped from Hunter’s chin onto Shane’s arm, the room otherwise still. 

Hunter swallowed hard, staring into Shane’s hardened hazel eyes like a man who had already accepted death.

Shane didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. 

Shane shoved Hunter’s head forward, withdrawing the knife. Hunter let out a low chuckle before lolling his head to the side to look up at Shane. “What, don’t wanna kill me? Too big of a bitch?”

“You don’t deserve to get off that easy.” Shane spat, folding the knife before putting it back in his pocket. He let the anger, and the madness, bubble up once again until it was brimming at the tips of his fingers.

The anger boiled over when Shane’s fist connected to Hunter’s nose and a crack sounded through the room. Hunter groaned, slumping forward as pain throbbed in his nose. Shane grunted, feeling satisfied. 

Hunter cleared his throat before speaking again, looking up to show his bloodied face to his assailant. “That all you got?” Hunter’s voice sounded distant to Shane’s ears as the adrenaline continued to roar. Shane could’ve sworn he saw red.

“Fuck no, I’m just getting started.” Shane shot back, pulling back his fist to throw another punch at Hunter’s jaw. 

Hunter groaned again as the pain registered, pausing before spitting blood out onto the ground. “Alright, fine. Do your worst, _big guy_.”

So Shane did.

Shane took his time tormenting McElroy, a wave of adrenaline hitting him with every pained noise that came from Hunter. Shane might have even argued that having this much control, being able to inflict this much pain, was a high all its own--but only because he was absolutely sure that McElroy deserved it.

Shane’s next move was breaking every one of Hunter’s fingers until he was nearly sobbing in pain, and Shane had to admit that he reveled in it. By now, Hunter was begging, pleading for him to stop, and offering to end his life of violence and crime forever if Shane would just let him go, but Shane remained silent and bent McElroy’s middle finger back until it snapped as a means of reply. 

Hunter kept screaming until his voice gave out, and he let out the smallest of whimpers as the final finger was broken. His body slumped forward and he retched, vomiting all over his shoes. 

Shane wrinkled his nose in distaste, pulling the knife from his pocket and flipping it open once more. Hunter finished throwing up the contents of his stomach before sitting him upright once more. He looked like an absolute wreck.

McElroy’s face was bloodied and bruising, his once perfect skin covered in blotches; his hair stuck up at odd angles from when Shane had used it as a handle to move him around, and his clothes were covered in blood as well. Vomit puddled at his feet and Shane decided, _almost done_.

He drove the pocket knife through the flesh of Hunter’s thigh and felt disappointment tug at his heartstrings when there was only a garbled reply. Hunter was losing consciousness, whether from pain, exhaustion, or the rohypnol, and Shane was losing steam. He withdrew the knife after a few moments, earning another, smaller, sound that made his heart swell with pride once more.

Shane walked back around to stand behind Hunter, mirroring the way he’d stood the first time he’d done it that evening. Two hours had passed, now, and the damage had shown it. The knife was placed back at Hunter’s throat, and Shane bent down enough to growl in McElroy’s ear, “Hell’s too good of a place for you. Have fun rotting in the ground, you piece of shit.”

Those were Shane’s final words before sliding the blade across Hunter’s throat, watching with disturbed fascination as blood began pouring from the wound. 

Hunter choked; once, twice, before going still and silent. Shane basked in it for a moment, only one thought crossing his mind, _he’s dead_.

Shane turned and left the interrogation room, knife clattering to the concrete floor as it slipped from his grasp. He didn’t even bother looking back, satisfied with the job he'd done.

**Author's Note:**

> This got super heavy omg my bad. Leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!!


End file.
